The apocalypse is no longer in effect. Despair won’t cut it. Case in point: ‘Colour Code’, a drive-through 21st century North America, from the plantations to the projects.
Ostensibly it’s a lament for the fallen, delivered in a tone halfway between Smith and Springfield. ‘Sequin’ is a remembrance for young love set to a slow soul sway, Philly strings and all, while ‘Pride’ is not so much a call for tolerance as a bald statement of common sense. ‘Ladies of Bohane’ is a transposition of Kevin Barry’s near-future Celtic spaghetti-noir novel wed to a soundtrack that John Carpenter might’ve knocked off in a lighter mood. ‘Winners’ opens like the title sequence from an alternative Blade Runner ‘Word Anxiety’ is a skewed world where gated-estate starlets fall in love with their stalkers as Stranger Things synths drone and nasty guitars twang dire warnings from the sidelines. This is an album of epic emotions rendered as perfect miniatures, tiny origami unicorns. Peter Murphy